


Old Flames

by Beshter



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Regrets, old flame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beshter/pseuds/Beshter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teena Mulder is dying. And she has one last discussion with an old flame about the sins of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one off story I did that was just general in the X-files canon, but could fit into my larger "Seasons" series, which I will be cross-posting as well. This is a relationship I always wanted to explore.

I wasn't sure he would come.

I waited for an hour at the little, quaint coffee shop in Greenwich, down the street from my small apartment. I watched as younger, vibrant people filed in for frothy lattes and decadent cappuccinos and waited to see the familiar cloud of smoke, the dark head long now gone to gray, the piercing eyes that used to be able to find me from across a crowded room. That had all been a long time ago, during less happy, but more thrilling times, when I had been much younger and much more reckless with my heart and with those I cared about.

The time for recklessness, it seemed, was over.

I had tea today. It was quickly cooling in front of me. Still, I stirred it occasionally with every pretense of drinking it, but would set the spoon aside and glance at the door once more, every jingle making my heart leap, just a little. Not out of excitement, really, much more out of anxiety…dread…perhaps regret.

I wasn't even looking when he slipped in the door and moved to the counter. His gravely voice ordering a black coffee was what clued me he was there as I looked up, surprised at him. He was dressed down today; jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the dress of an elderly retiree out enjoying an afternoon. I knew that was as much a lie as everything else about him, but I smiled at least when he came to the table, shy and hesitant as he took the seat opposite mine.

"I wasn't sure you would come," I murmured lowly, staring at my tea fixedly.

"You asked me to. I promised you I would." He shrugged in that diffident way he had. Once upon a time it might have bothered me, the coldness. "Besides, I was curious."

"About?" I finally did meet his eyes then. As usual there was little I could see lying there. He always kept his secrets buried, somewhere deep, along with the bodies.

"Why you would call me all of the sudden, out of the blue." His stained fingers fidgeted, as if longing for one of his cigarettes. "The last time we spoke a few months ago…"

"You nearly killed my son," I hissed, eyes flashing at him briefly, as usual my temper getting the better of me. "He was dying, and you allowed that to…"

"I did what I could, Teena," he replied smoothly, perhaps a little sadly, ignoring the bluster. "Fox is alive now because of our efforts."

"Alive, yes." My baby was alive, for now. "You've taken away so much of my life. Did you need to hurt him as well?"

He paused in the act of lifting his mug to his lips, thoughtful. "Did you call me here to crucify me with my own sins, Teena?"

He knew I hadn't. "No." But it felt good to do it all the same. "No, I called you here for a different reason."

"What trouble has Fox gotten into now?" He asked it with all of the patience Bill would have when Fox was sixteen and had been caught doing something reckless again.

"I had a doctor's appointment two days ago," I replied chattily, old friends over coffee.

"And how did that go for you?"

"I'm dying."

He had never been a man of emotions, but what little he had seemed to nearly break the surface of his ever-placid demeanor. "How long?"

"It could be years." I shrug, refusing to give into the tears that are threatening behind my eyes. "The disease is incurable and fatal, but not fast. It will ravage my body, it will debilitate me, and most likely I'll be left to fade slowly before my son's eyes." That hurt more than the idea of dying did. "I suppose someone in the family had to died slowly, since so many others were taken from him quickly." There was bitter irony there and blame to spare.

And he knew where I placed the blame.

"Teena!" He reached across the table to one of my hands, the long fingers curling around them. "I have people who could look at you, fix you…"

"Like after my stroke?" I snort softly, shaking my head. "No…no, I don't want that. I've lived long enough. Too long." My head ached with the weight of years that I didn't even possess yet. "I've lost a daughter, I've lost a husband, and I'm damn lucky I haven't lost my son yet. I'm at an age when I should be dotting on grandchildren and yet my only child is caught up in the games we played when we were his age, younger even." I glare up at him, my hand cold and still in his. "I never wanted this for Fox."

"Fox is a grown man, Teena, he can make his own decisions."

How very cold and calculating those words were. "Did you ever even care? Just once?"

I hurt him. He pulled his hand away, returning it to the coffee cup, shrugging. But I could see the guilt written in his eyes. "I've tried to help your son more than you will ever know."

"And use him as well," I snap harshly, a hysterical laugh bubbling somewhere in my throat. "How many lies and half-truths did you fill him with?"

"Fox was warned, Teena, and yet he continued to pursue a cause he knew would end him nowhere." He wouldn't even budge, not even now.

Had this man ever been soft and caring once? I thought he had, in long gone summers in Rhode Island and cold, dark winters on Martha's Vineyard, when my husband was busy in Washington. He would come to visit me with smiles and roses. I had never loved him. I had always ever loved Bill. But I had lied to myself, allowed myself to believe I could love him, if for a few years.

"Did you ever tell Fox the truth, Teena?" He was trying to get at me, to point out to me that he wasn't the only one who hid secrets and perpetuated lies. "About Bill? About Samantha?"

The color in my face rose angrily. "Bill was and is Fox's father, you know that." Bill had adored his son, even after grief and blame had split the two away from each other. "There are some truths that are real no matter what the evidence says. Bill was more of a father to Fox than…"

I stop, realizing where my angry words were going. I had never admitted the truth out loud to anyone, not even him.

But he knew it, all the same. "Than I ever was." Something glittered briefly. Regret? Sadness? Both? "I never begrudged that to Bill, Teena. He loved Fox and Samantha as if they were his own. Did he ever know the truth?"

"I never told him." Yet I always wondered if he did know, in the end.

"Perhaps it was for the best. Bill was a good man, a man who deserved far better than he got. Far better than I for a best friend or you for a wife." He drained his coffee and set it aside. I didn't disagree with his accusations. Bill had not been a perfect husband, and there was much I hated him for. But he had never stopped loving me, even when I had been unfaithful to him.

"Fox never knew that you had Samantha declared dead?"

"No," I admitted softly, glancing at a young family across the way. I had been a mother like that once, with a curious, energetic young boy who asked questions of everything, his bright eyes shining as he kept asking me "Momma, why?" Usually while I held his sleeping sister in my arms, cuddled close to me as I attempted to explain the secrets of the universe.

"I wanted Fox to have a normal childhood, what was left of it." I shrugged, hugging my arms to myself as I leaned against the table. "I wanted him to have summers spent playing baseball and basketball, I wanted him to have girlfriends and go to dances, I wanted him to not have to live with the pain of his sister."

"So never allowing him closure allowed him to lead a normal life?" He was being cruel now. "I see how effective your methods are, Teena."

"What would you have had me do? Tell him that his sister was dead? He already blamed himself for it. What would he have done if he had learned the truth?"

"Perhaps you would be a grandmother now, dandling little ones on your knee." He offered coldly. "Perhaps he would have a career that wouldn't be as dangerous. Perhaps he'd not have undermined every single one of the plans we worked so hard to put into place years ago."

"And how well did those work out for you, then?" I laughed bitterly. "All your lies, your secrets, the hurt and pain you all caused, how well did that work out for you in the end?"

I had scored a blow on him now and it hurt. He grimaced visibly, something he never did. "I hate to admit it, but Bill was right in the end."

"Of course he was." I had to defend him, someone did. "You were all so caught up in your power games, all of you. How many innocents have been hurt, have died?" I almost didn't want to know. I could guess.

"Did you call me here to flaunt my failure in my face?"

He was cold, angry, and frankly it felt good to get that reaction out of him. But I hadn't called him here for that. It was all under the bridge now….it was all in the past.

"No," I admitted slowly. "No, I didn't."

I swallow hard, lifting the cup of now bitter tea to my lips. "Fox is on a case right now in California. A missing girl, taken from her home."

"He never could leave that wound alone, could he?"

I purse my lips and continue. "I am going to tell him the truth about Samantha, about where she was, about her living with you, and Cassandra, and Jeffrey."

His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, nodding. "He won't believe you."

"Perhaps not." I shrug as I look out the window. "And I'll tell him the truth about you and I. It's only right that he should know about that before I die. Jeffrey is his brother, the only family he'll have left now."

I had purposefully not included him in that. He was never Fox's father. "Jeffrey has gone missing, you know. Has been for a year." He said it so casually. I felt ill at the thought, but I was hardly surprised.

"Do I want to know what you did to the man who you claimed as your flesh and blood?"

"I don't know where Jeff is at." He sounded almost honest, almost regretful. "Let's say Bill's son did more credit to his father than my son did."

I'm too stunned to even make a response.

"I was always a little sad," he drawled thoughtfully. "Jeff looked so much like me, took so much after me in so many ways. Fox was always your son, completely. Your looks, your eyes, your fiery temper, your good heart." Something softened inside of him briefly. "It is easy to fall in love with a person like that."

"Is it." I didn't want to be swayed by his gentle words. He had persuaded me one too many times with them.

"Teena, no matter what happened between us, you know my feelings for you, that part of me was honest."

"Is there a part of you that is honest?" I didn't know.

"For you, there was."

"I'm sorry it couldn't have been for others. Perhaps you wouldn't be a lonely old man now, still angry with the world."

"Perhaps," he conceded philosophically. "I hope that Fox doesn't make the same mistakes in love that you and I did."

That much I could agree with. "I can't believe you allowed for him to marry that woman."

"Diana?" He laughed lightly. "I knew you would hate her. But she wasn't a bad woman, really, she was just a woman who didn't love him enough."

"She broke his heart. She left him without a word."

"On my orders." He defended slightly. "I am many things, Teena, but I won't let you speak ill of the dead. She loved your son in her way. But you are right, she wasn't good for him."

"Seems you like playing matchmaker for him." There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Don't think I don't know why you sent his partner to him."

"I sent Agent Scully to him because she was a doctor who would be able to control his flights of fancy, nothing more."

"And seven years later and she's still there. I love my son, but no woman stays with Fox for that long unless they are related to him or they are in love with him." I raise an eyebrow at him curiously. "Which is it?"

"I'm afraid I didn't do Dana Scully justice, Teena." He sighed thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "She's a beautiful woman, talented, intelligent. You'd like her."

"I've met her, and I do like her." I had thrown many, not-so-subtle hints at Fox over the years, ones he was deliberately obtuse about. "Will she take care of my son?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation on his part. "There is a singular devotion on the part of those two for each other that none of us ever showed to those we loved. In a way I can't blame Fox, in many ways Dana reminds me of you once upon a time. She's very easy to fall in love with."

"And does he love her?" It was a mother's worry. I admitted that, I feared for my son being alone. "Does she return it? Fox has had too many heartbreaks in his life, I can't stand the thought of another one for him."

"Do you need me to answer that question?" His eyebrows rose in amusement. "One day the two of them will discover for themselves what you and I have suspected for years."

I'm comforted by that despite it all, "She is a good woman, isn't she?"

"She has a head on her shoulders, yes. He needs that in his life."

"He does." I chuckle in spite of myself. "Is it true she shot him once?"

"She's a doctor. She knows how to handle things like that." He laughed as well. But he sobered, his eyes darkening as he regarded me. "Are you going to go with what I think you are planning?"

He was never a stupid man.

"Yes," I feel the smile melt away. "I've lived too long, lost too much in my life. I want to be spared one last indignity of old age."

"He won't understand, Teena." It was one last plea. Whether it was Fox or himself, I couldn't tell.

"No, he won't. But he has her there, and she'll help him." I knew that. He was right about Dana Scully. She had a head on her shoulders. "I want him to finally be free of this weight, of the guilt, of all of this. And I want to be free myself." I feel the tears I had been holding back slip down my cheeks. "I want closure as well."

Gently, he reached across the table, wiping at the trail with a thumb, the scent of smoke clinging to his skin. "I'm sorry, Teena, for what its worth."

I had to believe he meant that. "Time is passing us by, you know. Perhaps we should think about making amends for our sins."

"I don't think there is any making amends for mine." He was sad and grave, and it was the first time I could recall him ever sounding regretful. "I will miss you, Teena."

I wished I could say the same for him. "I did think I loved you once, you know."

There was pain, and there was sadness, but he always knew whom I had really loved. "I know. I loved you. I'm only sorry it wasn't enough for either of us."

What else was there to say?

"I suppose I should be leaving." He rose hastily, automatically patting the pocket of his jacket for his cigarettes. "I'm sure you will want to call Fox as soon as possible about all of this."

"If I can reach him." I sigh. He always was so single-minded when he was on a case.

"Right." He paused, studying me for long moments. Then swiftly he leaned over, pressing his lips softly to my cheek, the same sort of gesture that decades ago would have made my heart flutter with anticipation. "Goodbye," he whispered softly against my skin as he turned, moving for the door of the coffee house and not looking back.

I watched him as he went, remembering the handsome, dashing man he had once been, and the bored, lonely housewife I was, and all the horrible decisions we had made in those days. I was an old woman now, with a lifetime of regrets, and a son who was paying the price for every single one of them.

"Oh Fox," I breathed as I turned to my tea. "Will you ever forgive me for what I've done?"


End file.
